


A Dream is But ...

by Merfilly



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/F, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melisande has dreaming thoughts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream is But ...

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is somewhat experimental for me, both in style and concept. I pray it neither offends the recipient's concept, nor fails to entertain somewhat.

Was it Elua's favor on her, as the common masses believe? No, I think not. While Delauney had made me stretch, and necessitated his removal from the scene, there is an elegance to the way Phèdre matches me, wits to wits, with that edge of the supposed fairer sex added to us each. Delauney had lacked that.

My smile is small and tight, for the loss is great. Yet, having been set back by a woman strong enough to withstand the snare I had set and still outmaneuver me, I cannot help but feel the sting of pride mixed in my temporary defeat.

Delauney set the mold, but I finished the casting.

`~`~`~`~`

_The bed is Delauney's, but he is not my companion this time. I know it cannot be anything but a dream, after all I have done. Yet she is there, the pinprick of Kushiel's favor in her eye, and I am reaching out to assert my place within our mirror-bond despite knowing the lie of illusion around me._

_A short lead to a wide collar around her throat, wide enough to hide the mark at the back of her neck I know without even checking, allows me to pull her in for a bruising kiss. She meets me with ardor, her burning needs a match for my overwhelming presence, each of us always true to Kushiel in our own manner._

_There are no words in this, the burn of bodies taking precedence, for in a dream one is reduced to the more base nature. So I tell myself, rather than admit the secrets in my soul, that I know Elua's blessed tenets only facilitate the animal above the intellect. She is the path I take to fulfillment, uncaring that when the dawn awakens me I will only know emptiness in her absence._

_Yet, when exhaustion should be there, matching the throb of my veins as we cool, the animal is driven back, and there are Words._

_"You could have done no less, to be true to who you are. Until you involved the Skaldi, all was in order," the phantasm of my mirror tells me._

_"Yet you led to the adulteration of Elua's Chosen by solving the Straits to bring Alba and Eire to our shores," I point out, even as I ghost my nails over the scratches she bears from our meeting. The flare in her eyes reminds me of her nature ever more, while she holds true to the words we share._

_"The Skaldi do not understand love; we may yet teach Alba."_

_More is to be said, but dawn gathers close, and the dream is fading already._

`~`~`~`~`

Awareness of the night comes, with the ache of a body risen to performance and denied. I will use that deprivation to sharpen my wits, even as I consider the words within the dream. A full-fledged political marriage between Alba and Terre d'Ange will foster divisions and discord.

My smile is cold, but I am warm within myself. This game has yet to end, Phèdre, my mirror.


End file.
